Bound To Her Shadow

It had been a week since my encounter with Mr. Vincent.

A week since I quit my job out of pure fear that he might come back for me.

So much for pretending I wasn’t intimidated by him.

For seven straight days, I stayed locked inside my apartment, only leaving when I absolutely needed groceries. At first, the isolation felt comforting. Safe, even.

Now it was starting to rot me from the inside out.

Another few days of this and I’d officially qualify as a recluse.

“I need to get a grip,” I muttered, pacing across my kitchen. “It’s been a week. If he wanted to find me, he would’ve already done it… right?”

The silence that followed made my stomach twist.

“Unless he’s waiting for me to get comfortable.”

I sighed and pressed my palms against my eyes.

Talking to myself had become a terrible habit over the years. Stress always made it worse.

Moving to Canada was supposed to give me a better life. A clean slate.

Instead, it felt like I’d carried every problem across the ocean with me.

Funny how happiness worked.

You spend years chasing it, convinced that once you finally catch it, everything will settle into place. Then the moment it arrives, fear creeps in behind it. Fear of losing it. Fear that it won’t last.

And somehow, the anxiety always outlives the happiness itself.

“God, I need to stop thinking.”

I headed for the fridge, desperate for something cold to distract me.

The second I opened it, disappointment hit.

Nothing looked good.

Cooking sounded even worse.

With a groan, I dropped into one of the dining chairs and grabbed my phone.

Bloom:

Hey. Being alone is starting to mess with my head. Mind if I stay over tomorrow morning?

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Lisa:

Of course, girl 🥰 I’d love to have you.

I frowned.

Bloom:

Thank you 💖 I’ll come by in the morning.

Lisa:

Sounds good!

My fingers stilled over the screen.

Something about the conversation felt… off.

Lisa hated emojis. She complained about them constantly, especially when people spammed them in texts. She also wasn’t the type to reply this quickly.

I stared at the messages for another second before locking my phone.

I was overthinking again.

People changed. Maybe the guy she’d been seeing recently was rubbing off on her.

Still…

The uneasy feeling lingered.

A sudden craving for iced coffee and donuts hit me hard enough to drag me out of the apartment.

Ten minutes later, I was dressed in shorts and an oversized hoodie.

The evening air was cold, but the sky looked beautiful enough to make up for it. I stopped outside my building long enough to take a picture and send it to my mom.

At least that would stop her from worrying for a few hours.

I slipped my headphones around my neck and started toward the café down the street, listening to The Devil Doesn't Bargain.

The place was warm when I stepped inside, smelling like coffee beans and sugar.

“This makes six visits this week.”

I glanced up from my phone.

The barista behind the counter was smiling at me awkwardly, like he’d been debating whether or not to speak for the last ten minutes.

“Caffeine is basically my coping mechanism at this point,” I replied.

He laughed softly.

“Well, in that case, I have something else that might help.” He reached beneath the counter and handed me a flyer. “My band’s performing at a music competition this weekend. You should come.”

I looked down at the paper before glancing back at him.

“You noticed I like music?”

“You always hum along to whatever’s playing in here.”

Heat crept into my face.

“I’ll think about it,” I said with a small smile.

He seemed nice. Genuinely nice.

Which was exactly why I felt guilty.

People like him always seemed to appear at the wrong time in my life.

I wasn’t ready for anything serious. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I ever would be.

“Your order’s on the house today,” he said, sliding the paper bag toward me.

“Thanks.”

By the time I left the café, night had settled over the city.

The streets glowed beneath rows of streetlights, reminding me painfully of London after dark.

For the first time in weeks, homesickness hit me hard.

I tightened my hoodie around myself and started walking faster.

Just a few more blocks.

Then I’d be back inside my apartment. Back somewhere safe.

I’d always preferred being alone.

Growing up, my father kept me on a short leash. School, home, repeat. Back then, I told myself I liked it that way. Crowds exhausted me. People exhausted me.

Even now, solitude came too naturally to me.

Without Rion and the girls, I probably would’ve disappeared into myself completely.

A figure suddenly brushed past me in the dark.

I flinched.

A man.

I turned instinctively, but my vision blurred beneath the harsh streetlights. I’d forgotten my glasses at home, never expecting I’d stay out this late.

I lowered my head and kept walking.

Faster this time.

Then two hands grabbed me from behind.

My breath caught.

I twisted violently, biting down on one of the hands gripping me. The man cursed under his breath, but his grip barely loosened.

Before I could scream, something pressed over my nose.

A cloth.

Panic exploded through me.

I held my breath instantly and struggled harder, kicking backward and clawing at his arms.

Calm down. Think.

The movies had taught me one useful thing: don’t inhale.

My lungs burned within seconds.

Finally, I let my body go limp.

The cloth disappeared immediately.

I heard movement above me, followed by the sound of someone making a phone call.

“Sir. I found her.”

Ice flooded my veins.

Vincent.

A car door slammed nearby.

Footsteps approached.

“Why is she on the ground?” Vincent’s voice was cold enough to cut through bone.

“Sorry, boss,” another man muttered. “She’s heavier than she looks.”

Seriously?

Even half-conscious, I felt offended.

The next voice came quieter. More dangerous.

“I’ll overlook that comment once. Say something like it again, and you won’t enjoy the outcome.”

Silence followed.

I stayed perfectly still, listening carefully.

This was my only chance.

If I ran now, maybe—

I cracked my eyes open slightly, calculating the distance between me and the nearest corner.

Then I bolted.

Adrenaline shot through me as I sprinted down the sidewalk.

One step.

Two.

Three—

A hand seized my arm violently and dragged me backward.

I barely had time to gasp before a large hand clamped over my mouth.

My back collided with a solid chest.

“Still trying to run?” Vincent murmured near my ear.

The streets around us felt horrifyingly empty.

No voices.

No footsteps.

Nothing.

My pulse hammered violently against my ribs as his grip tightened around me.

“I warned you once already,” he said calmly. “There’s nowhere you can go that I can’t reach.”

The other man approached again, another cloth already in his hand.

Panic clawed its way up my throat.

I dug my nails into Vincent’s skin hard enough to leave marks, but he barely reacted.

That scared me more than if he had.

The cloth pressed against my nose again.

I jerked my head away desperately, fighting against the dizziness creeping in around the edges of my vision.

No.

No, no, no—

My lungs finally betrayed me.

I inhaled sharply.

The chemical scent filled my head instantly.

My body weakened against him.

The last thing I heard was Vincent speaking behind me.

“You’re terrible at this.”

Then darkness swallowed everything.